


My Turn Now

by Kagemihari (soracia)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-20
Updated: 2003-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soracia/pseuds/Kagemihari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>My brother gave up his soul for me... How could I give him anything less?</i> - Mokuba POV musing on the price of his brother's devotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Turn Now

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Yugioh and characters thereof belong to Takahashi-sensei, and lyrics to Steven Curtis Chapman
> 
> Kagi's notes: Another short little POV, Mokuba on why he loves his brother. Set at some indeterminate time after Gozaburo's death, probably around the time of the Death-T tournament. Inspired by Nenya85's wonderful work - you are awesome, girl! (If you love Kaiba and Mokuba and you've never read her fics, go do it.) Particularly _After Death-T_ , which is from Seto's point of view after Yami shattered his heart. This is Mokuba's viewpoint from around the same time. More or less based on the manga version of events, so if you've never read the manga you may want to read that first.

_Well it's my turn now_

 _It's my, my turn now_

 _My turn to give my life away_

 _Gonna give it all I have_

 _My turn, my turn now_

 _My turn to give my life away_

________

 **My Turn Now**

I am Mokuba. Kaiba Mokuba. I love my brother.

Those are the two most important things you should know about me.

I also am a Kaiba. I am more like my brother than you know. And no matter what you think of him, he means everything to me.

He loves me too. I know it. I see it every day, in the way he moves, the way he doesn't talk, the way he never smiles unless he's smirking. I see it in the scars on his body, the ice in his gaze, I hear it in the cold tone of his voice.

I feel it in the way he never hugs me or touches me gently unless he thinks I'm asleep. The way he never lets me hug him, either.

All of those things, the splintered shards of his heart, show me the proof of his love for me.

Because every darkened, broken, twisted part of what is left of his soul, is there because of something he gave up, for me.

He spent years fighting a battle that he ultimately lost, to retain his humanity, his heart, while the man who should have been there to shelter and protect tried to destroy his soul and remake him in his own image.

In that fight he lost, little by little and piece by piece, his life, his soul, his ability to feel, and his faith in anything but himself.

I know the measure of his love is the sum of what it has cost him. What I have cost him, to preserve in me everything he never had the chance to be.

I am the bright child, the optimist, the cheerful light to his darkness. I smile and laugh and play games for fun, and I can still forgive.

I can forgive the fact that the power he craved for my sake finally got the best of him. I can forgive the fact that he has to win no matter what the cost, because he can't afford to lose when it means I might get hurt. I can forgive him losing himself in his quest for absolute victory.

I can forgive him who he has become, because I know—I am who I am because he protected me, all those years. Because he stood between me and the world, and took its punishment. Because he never let anyone or anything touch me, harm me if he could help it.

He took on the world to save me, to make sure of my happiness. Him against the world, and he won. He made certain of it, but at such a price. My brother gave up his soul for me. I have stood by helplessly, all this time, and watched him trade his soul away for mine. How could I give him anything less?

I will spend the rest of my life living that gift my brother paid so dearly for. I will be the one who understands, who loves him when everyone else hates him, when all he can do is hate himself. He feels that damned and soulless, that he deserves the pain, that I would be better off without him now—but he promised, and my brother always keeps his promises.

Total devotion. Only total victory can ever be worth the cost. My salvation must be absolute, my happiness complete, and I can never see his pain. His brokenness. To know that I see would destroy him. That would make his sacrifice meaningless, that would mean he had failed, for me to see and regret.

But I see his agony, the pain that makes him lash out in anger and blind rage. I hear his nightmares, hear him screaming in the night. I have seen the scars.

Every one, I know, is a promise to me. A declaration of love that he can no longer speak or express in any other way.

And all I can do in return is love him. I can do nothing, say nothing to comfort him or ease him, only be — ever, only be that which he gave up everything to save.

When I see how much it has cost him, how much he hurts, how alone he is in the world he has created, I would give it all up to go back and tell him that he doesn't have to save me. That it will be alright, I will be fine, as long as he is safe and happy.

But he is neither, has never been either, and that is how he wants it. Because it means that _I_ am. Because for him that is enough.

For me, I wish it was. He doesn't understand that I want that for him, too. That I wish that my carefree life did not come at the cost of his. I wish my soul had not been bought with his blood and sweat and pain. I wish that my remaining whole did not mean he was broken.

I wish that protecting me hadn't left him at the mercy of a man who had none.

I wish I could go back, and tell him not to promise.

I would never demean his sacrifice by telling him what I wish. But I wish...

So now I make a promise of my own: I will never let anyone hurt him again. Ever.

It's my turn now. My turn to give my life for his. Live my life for him, give everything for him.

I will make damn sure my life is worth the price my brother paid. A living sacrifice to his crucifix.

A life for a life, a soul for a soul. I will live for both of us now.

I swear it.

I am Mokuba. Kaiba Mokuba.

I love my brother.

 _~owari~_


End file.
